Chapter Text
Once upon a time, there was a noble named Ingrid Brandl Galatea from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, who was in desperate need of rescuing from herself.
Training lance in hand, she took her stance—feet close, one behind the other, shoulders arched thirty degrees upward, right hand clutching the staff a few centimeters apart from the left—just like she was taught. With eagle-like speed and ferocity to rival a lion, she attacked with precise strikes, piercing several holes in the sand dummy unlucky enough to be her opponent. She watched with satisfaction as for the twenty-seventh time that night, a ruined dummy poured out its lifeblood in sand into the bucket attached to it.
She pulled a handkerchief from the left pocket of her biscuit trousers and lumbered towards a half-full glass of water that waited for her next to one of the training hall’s cobblestone columns. But as she walked, out of the corner of her eye Ingrid saw them—cherry-kissed lips curled upwards, showing a top row of shining white teeth. Together, they formed a summery smile that left her cheeks sunburnt.
Ingrid turned her head and two pairs of emerald eyes locked. She wasted no time spinning on her heels to fully view the young woman lingering in the doorway with her arms folded. She found herself gnawing on the side of her cheek as many reasons to stay silent presented themselves within her mind, and for just a moment, her body offered them respite. It took her hands shaking for her to snap herself out of it and steer herself back on course.
She was Ingrid Galatea—future knight. A knight should not be intimidated by her classmate’s gaze.
“Dorothea,” Ingrid started, biting her lip as she looked to the ground and rolled her shoulders in an attempt to remedy her rigid posture. “I hadn’t seen you there. How long have you been watching me…?”
“Pretty much the entire time,” Dorothea said, twirling curly cinnamon locks around her fingers. Then she did it: the wink Dorothea Arnault was known for. Her head cocked first, a prelude to the calamity that would ensue when her left eye finally closed and a giggle, sweet like honey, finally escaped her lips. It made her heart thrash against her chest. “Your form is amazing, you know. I got to watch you ruin twenty-five dummies.”
One hand found its way atop her chest to abate her distressed heart, as the thumb of the other rubbed against the iron tip of her lance. “And you decided not to say anything at all?”
“I like to watch you practice. It’s like stress relief to watch you train. It makes me feel safe—or, more like I’d be safe when I'm beside you in battle, I suppose. You should get a drink.”
Dorothea nodded towards the pillar with the glass of the water next to it. She didn’t need to tell Ingrid twice, who wasted no time in making a beeline for it. With the glass in her hand, she glanced back at the girl in the doorway and her cheeks took on a darker shade as she lifted the cup to her lips, guzzling her drink; the small burp that came after as she finished didn’t help with her embarrassment either. She raised her fingers to her mouth, eyes once again caught on Dorothea, who was giggling like a child at the playground behind her.
“Cute burp, Ingrid,” she teased.
Ingrid rolled her eyes. She set the glass down and tapped the bottom of her lance against the tiled floor. “Do you intend on continuing to pester me like this? Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Well, I’m pestering you because I wanted to ask you the same thing. It’s the middle of the night, Ingrid.” As she minced towards her, the sound of her heels reverberated throughout the training hall. Each step closer was like a note in a crescendo that brought about anticipation to overpower Ingrid’s feeble annoyance. They came to a sudden stop with a final click of her heel, and just as Ingrid was about to turn her head to look back at her, Dorothea placed her hands atop her shoulders and massaged them. “I can tell you have so many knots already.”
Ingrid gasped and nibbled on her lip. She couldn’t deny how great the massage felt… Maybe she did have knots…
With a soft sigh, she brushed both of her hands away and turned on her heel. “Okay,” Ingrid said as she squeezed her own arm. “I understand what you mean. Maybe I should end my training for the day… A good night’s rest is important, after all.”
“Are you just going to train again tomorrow?”
Ingrid nodded. “I am.”
“But you’ve been training since this evening. It’s been six hours, Ingrid. Your arms must be tired; surely that pain won’t go away come morning.”
“I’ll see Professor Manuela if it doesn’t, then. I really can’t miss a day, Dorothea. I’ve just been accepted into the Black Eagles. I’m going to try my very best to carry my own weight.”
“Edie isn’t that strict,” Dorothea said. “You don’t need to worry about that. Just know we’re glad to have you—I’m glad to have you. We’re friends, and you don’t need to prove anything. And the same way you and I are friends, you can become friends with Edelgard and everyone else.”
Yes, they were friends. Even before she had joined the Black Eagles, Dorothea had always been there for her—even if it was to provide well-intentioned nannying most of those times. It was always appreciated. Maybe that was why she felt a weighty amount of shame as she shook her head.
“But still, I…”
Ingrid closed her lips as she felt Dorothea take her hands and interlock their fingers. Time seemed to stop. Velvety fingertips caressed Ingrid’s white knuckles; she melted like a cold treat in summer. As her cheeks once again turned champagne pink, she tapped her fingers against Dorothea’s hand.
“Take a break, Ingrid,” she said. “For me?”
“I,” she paused, lowering her gaze to the floor, “I will. Maybe I have been overdoing it a bit. I will be training tomorrow, but I… I can certainly relax for the rest of the night. Or morning, I suppose.”
Ingrid raised her head when she heard Dorothea giggling—it was as sweet as birdsong.
“Thank you, Ingrid,” she said as she pulled her hands away, letting them fall at her sides. “You’re a dear, you know that?”
“I do. You tell me that often—perhaps a little too often.”
“I mean it, though. They’re not empty words, Ingrid. You’re an extremely sweet woman.”
With roseate cheeks, Ingrid tilted her head downwards as Dorothea’s last sentence replayed in her mind. It was a proclamation of hers that she had heard a million times over by now, but it never failed to make her blush.
“Thank you, Dorothea,” Ingrid said, raising a hand to her blonde braid. “It means so much to me that you’d say that…”
Her response was the same as it always was—it never failed to make Dorothea giggle either.
“Come somewhere with me?” Dorothea asked as she placed her hands behind her back. “Please?”
“You’re asking?”
Dorothea blinked. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well,” Ingrid started, raising her hand further to brush away some tangled loose strands of hair that had impaired her vision, “you generally just tell me when you’re going somewhere. ‘Ingrid, we’re going to do a play,’ ‘Ingrid, we’re going to the clothing store,’ and so on. It’s a habit of yours.”
Ingrid had witnessed a sight she never thought possible before. The light in Dorothea’s eyes was like a flame extinguished. That was when she had known that she had brought about calamity. The guilt had caused her to freeze and grit her teeth before she had even registered the other woman’s frown; she wasn’t sure if she could—Dorothea never frowned, after all.
That aspect of her made it all the worse. Barely anything could bring her down—she did.
Ingrid’s first and only thought was: I have to remedy this situation immediately. Her stance board-stiff, and with all the grace of a pegasus trotting on two hooves, she grabbed Dorothea’s hands and squeezed them. She stared right into Ingrid’s eyes with that lazy look of hers. Ingrid knew she was blushing, but she didn’t care—she let the words come out however they pleased.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t like it!” she blurted out, her voice a tonal seesaw. “I actually really… enjoy going out with you! I never say no b-because when you drag me into things, I end up having the time of my life! So, yes… um, of course, I’ll go somewhere with you, Dorothea. Happily…”
Dorothea lowered her head and her gaze sank to Ingrid’s hands. Ingrid turned her gaze to the floor as Dorothea gazed at collection of scars on Ingrid’s hands that she had amassed since her childhood. The sides of palms were like rugged paths which the songstress’ fingers trailed as she puckered her lips. As her gaze crept back up to Ingrid’s, she smiled.
Finally, Ingrid thought as she released a curt sigh of relief.
“Ingrid, my dear,” Dorothea said; she already held Ingrid’s unrivaled attention. “Thank you. Your words mean so much to me, and I absolutely mean that. I should still apologize, though. I don’t mean to be such a pest.” She drummed two fingers against Ingrid’s knuckles without any rhythm. “I’ve been told that I have a bad habit of meddling in affairs that don’t concern me.”
“It’s no problem, truly.” Ingrid donned a tiny smile. “As I said, I, um, rather like it when you drag me into your affairs. I always enjoy the time I spend with my friends, and you’re no different. In fact, it’s nice to just talk with another girl sometimes. I swear, I sometimes feel like Annette’s and Mercedes’ dress-up doll. All they seem to want to do these days is paint my face.”
“Do you not like it?”
Ingrid shook her head. “No, it’s not that at all. Between us, and just us, I think I rather enjoy it. It’s... relaxing to be dolled up every once in a while, but I don’t particularly have time for that. I changed classes late into the year and we’re soon to graduate. If there’s a time I need to work hard, it’s now more than ever. But,” she paused for a moment, “I’ll take a break as I promised. Don’t worry.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone anyway,” Dorothea said with a bright smile. “You have my word, Ingrid. Now, we can do plenty of talking soon. I want to show you something.”
Ingrid nodded. She collected the glass on the floor and followed Dorothea out. The two took a short march to the front of the Black Eagles classroom. Ingrid raised an eyebrow as she turned to Dorothea, expecting her to want to show her something inside. However, much to her surprise, Dorothea sat cross-legged on the grass and patted the space next to her.
“Sit,” she said, and Ingrid did, hugging her knees close to her chest.
“Why did you bring me here?” Ingrid asked.
“To talk, mostly. What I wanted to show you was how lovely a conversation could be under the moonlight. It’s always so lovely at this time of night, it’s actually a hobby of mine to go for walks at this time.”
“You go for walks at midnight?”
“And often,” Dorothea giggled. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself. I’m sure you remember how I handled that dastardly suitor of yours back in the Valley of Torment. With grace and brutality, by the way.”
“I know, but still. I hadn’t pegged you the type to walk around the monastery late at night. I know it’s a relatively safe place, but you never know where danger is lurking.”
“Says the person who decides to train until midnight and presumably the early hours of the morning?”
Ingrid clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Touché.”
A saccharide chuckle escaped her lips. “It’s fine, Ingrid. I’m just making a point. You’re always worrying about someone else rather than yourself. And the only time you are worried about yourself, ironically enough, it’s about how you’re going to serve someone else.”
Ingrid froze, closed her eyes, and gave serious consideration to what Dorothea had said. Her first assumption was that she was wrong, but it was soon disproven once she realized that she could not recall one event where she had done something, anything, that had purely benefited herself.
She brought her thumb to her bottom lip and glanced over at Dorothea, who was sprawled out on the grass like it was her own bed. Her expression was lifeless, except for her sparkling gaze which lingered upon the sky.
“I… suppose you’re right,” Ingrid said, her voice low and feathery. “I suppose it’s not something that I do often. Thinking about myself, that is. Someone important to me was once a knight in the service of a king; even before his passing, I’ve wanted to do exactly what he did.”
“Oh, I think you’ve mentioned him to me once or twice. Glenn, right?”
Ingrid nodded. “Yes, Glenn.”
“He was your fiancé.” She flicked her eyes to meet Ingrid’s. “I know I’ve surely told you every time we’ve spoken about him, but I’m still so sorry about your loss. You have my deepest sympathies.”
Every time anyone had talked about him it was the same sentiment: I’m so sorry for your loss. She had heard it so many times that it became water running down the edge of a roof. Her lips parted as she was about to mutter the same response she always did—Thank you so much, that means a lot to me—but she stopped herself.
Closing her lips, Ingrid looked at Dorothea who was still surveying the night sky. She hadn’t realized how beautiful she had looked under the moonlight. Her eyes were dazzling jewels that decorated a perfect porcelain visage. Her cheeks lit up once again; Ingrid could definitely understand why Dorothea supposedly had so many male fans during her time at the Mittlefrank Opera Company.
Without warning, an unusual feeling had manifested within her chest. She snaked her hand across the grass and lowered chipped silver nails on top of Dorothea’s knuckles. The songstress turned her head, her hair bouncing in the faint breeze.
“Ingrid, your face is red,” Dorothea said. “Is something the matter?”
“Not at all!” Ingrid said, her voice shaky. “I… just want to talk, I suppose. About Glenn. I don’t really talk about him often to most people. I don’t even talk to my close friends about him, and in fact, I actually avoid it.”
“Why’s that?”
“They knew him. I don’t want to bring up solemn memories. For Felix especially.”
Dorothea blinked. “Oh?”
“Glenn was his older brother.” Ingrid paused. “But please keep that between us. I know he prefers people not knowing about it.”
“I won’t tell a soul.” Dorothea ran her index finger along her chest to make an x-shape. “Cross my heart.”
“Thank you. Now about Glenn.”
Dorothea donned her usual sunny smile. “You have my full attention, my dear Ingrid.”
Ingrid nodded and closed her eyes, taking a deep sigh. In and out, one fluid motion—she was sure the way her words would come would be very different. She was right. From the moment she opened her mouth, it was as if she were suddenly mute. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what to say. She had to say something sophisticated, a captivating statement drizzled with feeling.
A simple sentence came.
“I loved him so much,” Ingrid proclaimed.
“Oh? Well, that’s good. He was your fiancé, after all; in an ideal world, you’re supposed to. In fact, he’s the only suitor you’ve talked positively about. I could always kind of tell.”
A dry chuckle escaped her lips. “He was a true knight—a perfect example chivalry. He was loved by the people of Faerghus and was appointed a member of the royal guard at just fifteen. And his skill with a sword was absolutely unmatched.”
“Ah, I see.” Dorothea raised an eyebrow. “That’s lovely, Ingrid, but what about his personality? What was he like?”
“Oh.” Ingrid averted her gaze, pausing to think of the right words. It had taken a lengthy three seconds—much longer than she would have liked—but when she finally did have her answer, she swallowed hard before speaking. “He was… kind and sweet. And he took good care of Felix. He was very devoted to his job, though… And—”
Dorothea raised a hand. “Stop. Lie down with me.”
Ingrid raised an eyebrow, curious, but laid back against the grass with Dorothea like instructed. She turned her head, gazing at Dorothea’s angelic features. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to blush; it was a futile attempt.
“Look up at the sky, Ingrid,” Dorothea said. “I’m sure there’s something there that will catch your interest.”
Turning her head, Ingrid recognized what Dorothea was talking about in an instant. The night sky was truly a wonder. It was the goddess’ canvas. The stars made a sparkling masterpiece. A pegasus flapping its wings; it looked alive. Ingrid couldn’t help but smile, it was an opera for the eyes.
“It’s beautiful,” Ingrid sighed. “It looks like Elincia…”
“It does,” Dorothea chuckled. “I knew you’d like it.” She placed one hand over her stomach and lifted the other to point at the stars. “That consolation is called Praepetis. You can only see it around this time of year.”
“Oh? Why is it called that?”
“It means the winged horse. Fitting, of course, since it’s a pegasus. It’s probably my favorite of Fódlan’s constellations. I come out to see it every night when it’s out.”
“I didn’t know stargazing was a hobby of yours, Dorothea.”
Dorothea giggled. “Among many other things, yes. I love to stargaze. Just looking up at the sky and thinking is lovely to me. I think more people should try it, personally. Oh—but I suppose my chattering isn’t giving you much time within your own head. I’ll shut up.”
Ingrid reached for her hand and clutched it, shaking her head while gazing at the stars. “No, that’s fine. We’ll stargaze and think another time. I like it when you talk… It’s comforting to me. Your voice, it just captures me in a way… that I can’t quite describe…”
“Aww, you’re blushing,” Dorothea said, sticking her tongue out; Ingrid’s cheeks went redder. “No, but seriously, thank you, Ingrid. It makes me so happy that you’re so comfortable with me. It’s kind of wondrous, actually.”
She turned to look at her. “Oh, truly? How so?”
“Well, I’ve always felt as if you thought I was a bit annoying. Earlier you sort of confirmed that, even. So color me a bit shocked that you’d say that you’re comfortable around me.”
“Oh please,” Ingrid chuckled. “You know I don’t think you’re annoying. If I’m to be honest, you’re one of my closest friends. You’ve always been there for me, and even if I’ve disagreed with you in the past, I’m fully aware that you want the best for me. So thank you, Dorothea. I’m happy that I have you as a friend. People like you are hard to find.”
Dorothea blinked—eyes wide. Ingrid had wondered if she had said something to upset her somehow. Bothersome thoughts raced through her mind: Oh, I’ve done it now… I’ve gone and embarrassed myself… I’ve made her uncomfortable! Ingrid nibbled on her bottom lip, her muscles effigy-stiff, but as she was about to attempt to remedy the situation, something extraordinary happened.
Dorothea’s cheeks turned as pink as an azalea in bloom and her lips stretched into a warm smile that carried her fear away like butterflies caught in a gust of wind. Ingrid sighed in relief, her own cheeks a matching shade.
“Just friends, Ingrid?” Dorothea giggled.
Ingrid froze. She replayed Dorothea’s question over and over again in her head. Did Dorothea just ask her if she was interested in her romantically? Sweat cascaded down her forehead and palms and her lip quivered as she struggled to find any kind of answer. Admittedly, now that Dorothea had brought it up, she herself wasn’t sure.
She had never considered the possibility that she could think of Dorothea that way. But reviewing the day, she’d be lying if she said that Dorothea hadn’t made a bit of a mess of her today. It was in a way she hadn’t felt before… It was so peculiar to her.
“Um, Ingrid,” Dorothea called. She snapped in her face, her lips contorted into a frown. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to—”
Ingrid closed her eyes and pressed her lips against Dorothea’s, bringing what she assumed to be an apology to a halt; she really had nothing to apologize for. She should be thanking her for helping her realize this if anything, Ingrid thought, as frightened as she was about her feelings.
This was her first kiss… and she was going to make it memorable. She slapped her tongue against Dorothea’s and thrashed it around in her mouth. She sank into the kiss, and as she pulled away in what felt like an eternity later, Ingrid opened her eyes to Dorothea’s wide eyes and rosy cheeks. Dorothea hadn’t reacted—no sharp-tongued quip, no merciless tease to make her blush. Just silence.
She had done it now.
Ingrid swallowed as if there was a brick lodged in her throat. “Dorothea, I—”
“You’re a really awful kisser,” Dorothea giggled; Ingrid sighed in relief despite the slight disappointment she felt from her bold proclamation. “There, I finished the sentence for you. No need to apologize, right?”
She knew better to contest that. Ingrid nodded and laid back against the grass and scratched her arm. “Y-Yes, of course. My ap—”
“Uh-uh!” Dorothea raised a finger. “Don’t.”
“I’m… not sorry, Dorothea?” Ingrid bit her lip. “I suppose it’s just a habit. I’m feeling quite nervous right now. I’m sure you can tell because I just did… that…”
“You did, but as bad of a kisser as you were, it was still lovely.” She clutched Ingrid’s hand. “So, you shouldn’t worry. I suppose I have my answer.”
“Y-Yes, I suppose you do.” She squeezed Dorothea’s hand. “I really don’t know… what to say right now. W-What even is there to say? I… think I like you, Dorothea. Like… how a woman loves another… W-With my heart and soul and—”
Dorothea pressed her finger against Ingrid’s lips. She shuddered at the gentle sensation, but also couldn’t help but wonder if she had said anything to upset her. When her gaze went to Dorothea’s sparkling smile she had her answer.
“Ingrid,” Dorothea said, “you talk a lot, you know. If you love me so much… why don’t you just show me? Wouldn’t you like to learn to kiss properly, my Ingrid?”
Ingrid nodded and the pair sat up and locked lips with the moonlight shining down on them. The kiss was an aria for the soul and Ingrid loved the licentious way Dorothea caressed her cheeks during it. The whole thing made her feel safe—and better yet, wanted. That feeling was irreplaceable.
They kissed until they couldn’t breathe and as they pulled away, their lips stretched into loving smiles and the looks in their eyes were like personal love letters to the other. Ingrid didn’t know that she could fall so deeply in so little time—or maybe she truly felt like this towards Dorothea for longer than she could remember.
One thing was for certain, though: she didn’t want this night to end.